Requiem: Death Shall Have No Dominion
by Darth Stitch
Summary: Though lovers be lost, love shall not... - Dylan Thomas FINALLY COMPLETE.
1. Part I

**Requiem: Death Shall Have No Dominion  
**_by Darth Stitch_

**DISCLAIMER: **Trinity Blood was created by Yoshida Sunao (R.I.P.) and is now an anime directed by Tomohiro Hirata and produced by the studio GONZO, as well as a manga drawn by Kiyo Kyoujou.

**AUTHOR'S WARNINGS: **Trinity Blood is set in a post-apocalyptic world where the Roman Catholic Church/the Vatican is portrayed as a military power as well as a spiritual one. The series also strongly implies major and controversial changes in the Church, such as women being bishops and cardinals as well as romantic relationships and quite possibly marriage between members of the clergy. If this disturbs you, do not read any further.

Earlier stories in the Milk Tea series can be found on my FF Dot Net profile. And in reading order they are:

_**Milk Tea & Thirteen Sugars  
Beautiful Disaster  
They Think That They See Flowers  
All I Wish Is To Dream Again  
Ordinary Miracles  
Broken Wings  
What I'm Looking For  
If I Ever Lose My Faith In You**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Kudos to **xiayou **who was the first person to spot Himura Kenshin making a cameo in Abel's universe in the last story. I just could not resist. Also kudos to **Eltara **and **Kirro** for spotting the wee rurouni wandering about. This newest fic is a WIP but not as epic as Broken Wings. Um…. _that_ kind of epic adventure is reserved for the _next_ fic. Oy vey.

* * *

**One – No End To Be Found In This World **

_**There is no end to be found in this world.  
**__**Sleep, my beloved.  
**__**Your life goes on.  
**__**You were born, and you lived.  
**__**You will sing the song of hope, won't you?  
**__**For eternity.**_

**_- _**Translated from "Requiem," by Lisa

The wood of _his_ coffin is cold and hard against her cheek.

_His_ touch has always been warm and gentle against her skin.

Roses surround this simple, elegant casket that will serve as the bed for _his_ final sleep, their sweet fragrance blending with the scent of melted candle wax.

He has always smelled soap-and-water clean, the faintest hint of incense clinging to his cassock, as well as the fresh air, the sunlight, his milk tea and those thirteen sugar cubes he insists on having.

Before they closed the lid over him, she saw him lying there, silent and unmoving, his beautiful face utterly still, like carved marble. They whisper that it is as if he lies merely sleeping, not dead, the Prince under an enchantment, instead of Sleeping Beauty.

Abel has always been a restless sleeper. He sleeps on his side, murmuring half-coherent words in his nightmares. He is always soothed by her touch and often, much, much later, she will wake with him curled up around her, his arm a warm band over her middle, his face half buried in her hair.

Esther understands now, how it is possible for Abel to mourn Lilith for 900 years. She too does not want to leave him. The notion of spending the rest of her life without him by her side is unthinkable, unimaginable – already she is conscious of that empty, aching place in her heart which he alone filled. And it is all her fault.

Abel had told her to stay aboveground, once he had found her, assuring her that everyone else in AX was there to rescue the Pope. It stung that she was in effect being sent to safety because at that moment, she would be more hindrance than help. She had not been allowed to go armed when she accompanied the Pope to the underground Ghetto and so she was pitifully easy prey for Dietrich.

Ah… Dietrich, beautiful boy, once her dearest friend, his betrayal adding its own considerable weight to her already heavy burden of grief and loss. He claimed to love her, though perhaps this was no facet of love any sane person would acknowledge. Her anger and fear fed his delight at her predicament, caught once more in his trap. She had tried for calm but she had no doubt Dietrich might have chosen to indulge his twisted passions for her, if it were not painfully obvious that he was pressed for time. Learning that he too had been slain by Cain came as an afterthought in her sorrow for Abel. She had already mourned Dietrich once; now he was indeed nothing to her.

Perhaps, this disregard was its own best revenge. Dietrich would not have appreciated being relegated to the background.

The guilt is as heavy a burden as the grief, overwhelming, unbearable. Abel had saved her life so many times, in so many different ways and she offers poor, pitiful repayment in return. Sorrow and soul-deep regret keep chasing each other in her mind and heart, offering no respite from the pain.

It was bitterly ironic that she should be no safer aboveground than she was below. A single man had broken through the ranks of the highly-trained Royal Guard, leaving untold death and destruction in his wake. Esther had run out when the commotion had started, seen Captain Mary Spencer lying hurt amidst the rubble, hurried to help her, hating her own helplessness. She had been stunned to see this strange man, dressed in white, wearing Abel's sweet, absent-minded smile, speaking in Abel's atypically diffident mild manner. The resemblance was uncanny, except for the golden sheen of his hair. But unlike Abel, he was utterly indifferent to the chaos he had just wrought, all of them completely beneath his notice.

It was like looking at Abel through a distorted mirror. There was something not quite _right_ about this man, something terrible and dark that his mild-seeming nature seemed to belie, rendering him all the more frightening.

And yet, foolishly, Esther had followed him.

Abel had warned her, with the rage and hatred simmering in his normally gentle blue eyes, that Cain Knightlord, his twin, was mad and dangerous. That he would kill without mercy or a second thought.

And still, recklessly, _stupidly_, Esther had _followed_ him.

The memories are torment but she lets them run their course, her punishment, her private hell.

She can still hear Abel's voice, distorted by the nanomachines and his wrath, screaming his brother's name.

She can still see the shock and horror in Abel's eyes as he beheld her, coming just behind Cain, just as Abel was about to strike down his brother.

She can still see Abel stop in mid-blow, his scythe mere centimeters away from his brother's neck, see the slight movement of Cain's hand, the sudden blast of power through Abel's chest, the final, fatal wound.

She can still see Abel's lips move, her name the last word he would ever speak.

She can still feel the shock of the sudden breaking of their bond, the sudden absence of _his_ beloved presence in her very soul, the agony sending her to her knees. Esther could only curl up in that ball of pain, fully expecting the next strike to send her to her beloved husband's side in heaven but Cain is without mercy, again walking past her as if she were beneath his notice, not finishing what he had begun.

And there are the other memories, the happier ones, which are their own form of exquisite pain.

Abel, singing to her in that gloriously beautiful voice, his laughter, the playful teasing, his touch, his kiss, his warmth, his scent, the little details that made up each precious day they spent together, so pitifully brief.

Even now, she can feel the cool weight of her wedding band around her finger, hidden by her glove. She has been a new bride only a few scant months and now she is a widow, without even the comfort of knowing that she carries her husband's child in her womb, one final memory of their love. That little silver-haired boy or red-haired girl child will only be a bittersweet dream.

She is not conscious of the time passing by, the hours she has spent sitting there. She has not truly registered the presences of the other AX Members – the Professor and Father Leon, both of them trying in vain to calm her down in those first, few hysterical moments of initial grief. She is not conscious of Brother Petros' whispered condolences… he is perhaps the only one outside of AX possibly aware of the true nature of her relationship with Abel.

She can hear the barest strains of music, a sweet voice raised in lamentation, a requiem. Perhaps, she is hearing Isabel's voice once more, the little Spellsinger and Songmaker. Surely, the grim news has already spread to the very heart of the Empire. Surely, Isabel now mourns her lost son in her song.

Ah, God, how can she face Seth, Abel's beloved sister, now?

Esther knows, of course, that they will not let her stay by his side to mourn forever, though this is her fervent desire. So she sits here, for these last precious moments, whispering to him all the things she had wanted to say, had never found the time to express, believing they had all the time in the world.

The Count of Manchester, Virgil Walsh, has now come to Esther with the most absurd of fairy tales.

It was something she might have spun as a lonely orphan girl except that Bishop Laura had been all the family she had ever wanted or needed. That she, Esther Blanchett, a simple nun from the Vatican, was in fact the long-lost Crown Princess of Albion, its new and rightful Queen. That the proof of her royal bloodline was the vivid star-shaped birthmark that adorned her side.

_The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen!_

If she only has the strength to spare, Esther will want to laugh at the irony of it all. She could barely take care of herself, she had just gotten her beloved husband killed – how could she be expected to run a country?

Lord Virgil speaks desperately to her of the Albionian people, bereft of guidance and leadership with the death of the former queen, beseeching her to come and take her rightful place, that it is _her_ people who are now under attack by the Rosen Kreuz Orden. He speaks to her of honoring Abel's sacrifice, telling her that he is aware that Abel has fought against Contra Mundi for many, many years.

_You don't even know the half of it_, Esther wants to say, her thoughts casting back to that day in the gardens, when Abel had finally told her everything about his dark and terrible past, the hopeless look in those beautiful blue eyes, only to be replaced by sheer and utter wonder as she told him that she understood and accepted everything.

_Didn't I tell you? I'm on your side. _

Abel's voice, gentle and always with that faint hint of playfulness, suddenly rings clearly in her mind, as if he was just right there.

And finally, she understands. She can almost feel the warmth of his presence, the shadow of his dark wings, folding her close, safe and _loved._

And with that, she finds the strength to stand on her own two feet, to follow Virgil Walsh out into the night, so she can speak her first words to _her_ people, _her _country, to take up the reins of this new duty.

She cannot tell them about her beloved husband, her best and dearest friend but she can tell them about how he gave her the courage to go on, to keep that hope and faith alive, even when all seemed lost.

Esther stands now, on the roof of Buckingham Palace, the wind in her hair, seeing the frightened masses down below. And finally, she speaks.

-tbc-


	2. Part II

**Requiem: Death Shall Have No Dominion  
**_by Darth Stitch_

**DISCLAIMER: **Same as previous chapter

**Two – Though They Go Mad They Shall Be Sane **

_**Though they go mad they shall be sane,  
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;  
Though lovers be lost love shall not;  
And death shall have no dominion**_

-- Dylan Thomas

The fairy tales have it that the accursed sleep of death can be broken by true love's kiss.

Abel Nightroad was awakened with blood.

Esther learns this only much, much later, that her miracle has been granted in the form of Cardinal Caterina, Father Tres and Saint Lilith herself, making one last gift from beyond the grave. At that time, she only understood that she was freed to go back to Abel's side one last time, after her first appearance to her subjects. She was there to witness Father Tres pouring this strange, dark liquid into Abel's coffin, working his strange alchemy with a prosaic "Mission: Accomplished" instead of chanting a magic spell.

It is only later that Esther will learn the full details, that the liquid is Lilith's blood, filled with her own Crusnik nanomachines, a last desperate effort to call Abel back from Death's keeping.

At that moment, she was only conscious of that wild, unreasoning hope clutching her heart, aware that _something_ was to be expected of Father Tres' strange actions.

And then, Cain Knightlord arrived, unwelcome and uninvited.

Father Tres Iquus is one of the most formidable agents of AX, a nonpareil with those guns of his and Esther is aware that Abel has more than once depended on Tres to rein him in should, God forbid, he lose control of himself in his Crusnik form. But Cain, as he had done to the seasoned soldiers of Albion, had calmly stopped Tres' bullets and threw the Killing Doll aside as if he were, again, just another annoying insect in his way.

Esther too was also just another insignificant speck in his path.

Cain Knightlord is as beautiful as his brother, the bright sun to his moon. Easy to see how he can command the Rosen Kruez Orden, how he can bring the formidable Methuselah to their knees and make them call him "Lord." And yet, Esther is abruptly reminded of Scripture, that the Devil too was beautiful and bright, beloved of the Lord, before the Great Fall. Not for nothing did the Devil bear the name Lucifer, Son of the Morning.

Esther has no weapons to hand, not that there was any weapon on this earth that could stand against Cain Knightlord. All she had were her words which she hurled at him like bullets, hoping to buy time, understanding that she _needed_ those precious seconds and minutes somehow.

_Who are you?_

_**What**__ are you? _

_What else do you intend to do to Father Nightroad? _

Foolish questions, really, when she could clearly see the first flickering of _desire_ in those empty blue eyes, unholy and unnatural and that she could understand, without further explanation, Cain's true intentions.

_**I am a Crusnik. A being who needs nothing and therefore one who needs everything. **_

Once again, Cain gave her that mocking parody of Abel's sweet smile, deigning to speak to her further…perhaps because he saw her weep for his brother, a meaningless kindness to a creature who should be beneath his ken. Or perhaps he directs his explanation to his brother, who can no longer answer him.

_**Abel and I will now become one. **_

_**After all, we were originally two in one. And so, he can enjoy eternal rest within me. I will have a new body and he won't have to worry all the time. **_

The mental image is crystal clear and horrifying and Esther braced herself for the inevitable pain when Abel's coffin burst open in a blaze of darkness and rose petals.

It is the first time that she has seen Cain look uncertain of himself but her eyes are now drawn back to Abel, _her_ Abel, awake… _alive._

Alive.

Abel is wholly unrecognizable, demonic, his skin dark and covered with bluish-black markings, his eyes ablaze, stark and direct contrast to his twin, who now assumes his own Crusnik form, unfurling white wings, his own eyes red and feral. The Demon and the Angel and yet, Esther knew full well which of them truly deserved his place in heaven and which one was pleased to rule in hell.

Witnesses will speak of the battle between the Angels of Death and Destruction, see the sky set alight with red and blue lightning, hear the clash of their weapons and their voices raised in wrath. It has been a battle long overdue and Esther understands this clearly now, that Abel will be locked in this war against his brother for as long as they both lived.

_**You will never stop fighting, will you?**_

Esther will not forget the scent of roses and blood and ozone lingering in the air. She will not forget her silent, desperate prayers, that this time, Abel would emerge the victor, that this time, he would finally return home to her.

And then, she saw both Cain and Abel fall from the sky.

* * *

**Three – It's All Coming Back To Me Now**

_**There were nights when the wind was so cold,  
**__**But my body froze in bed if I listened to it right outside the window.  
**__**There were days when the sun was so cruel,  
**__**And all my tears turned to dust,  
**__**And I just knew my eyes were drying up forever.**_

_**I finished crying in the instant that you left.  
**__**I can't remember where, or when, or how.....  
**__**But I banished every memory you and I had ever made...**_

_**But when you touch me like this,  
**__**And when you hold me like that  
**__**I just have to admit,  
**__**That it's all coming back to me....**_

- "It's All Coming Back To Me Now," lyrics by Jim Steinman

Esther is the first to find him.

The rest of AX, even Brother Petros and Sister Paula, had all been dispatched to look for the twins, though they all knew it was highly unlikely they would find Cain, much less have the ability to subdue him, despite all of Brother Petros' blustering. Father Tres Iquus alone was not part of the search party, as he was still undergoing repairs.

"More trouble than he's worth and he's got more lives than a freakin' cat," Father Leon had muttered but a red flush crept over the back of his neck when he spied Esther looking at him. "Anything for you, Sister Red, you know that, right?"

The Professor had simply rolled his eyes at Father Leon. "Hopeless, absolutely hopeless…"

They had all mourned Abel's loss in their own way. The loss of a comrade is not an uncommon occurrence in AX, but it doesn't make the hurt any less.

This was to be one of the last few things Esther will do as a simple AX agent and Vatican nun. The Count of Manchester, bless him, deliberately stayed his official announcement of Esther's true identity, giving her anonymity for just a while longer.

Esther found Abel in a clearing, not too far from the church where he had been first brought to for his wake…and she tried not to think of the whole worlds of irony contained in that single word.

He was laying on the ground, still in his Crusnik form, dark wings partially obscuring the fact that he was without a stitch of clothing. There wasn't time to blush over that nor was there anything in her that could feel fear at the strange, magnificent creature her husband had transformed into. She could only stand there for those first few moments, drinking in the sight of him.

Alive. Whole.

At her first tentative step towards him, he was suddenly on his feet, scythe in his hands, eyes blazing with battle rage. And then, slowly, he lowered his weapon, those sharpened features settling into a puzzled frown.

"**Human."**

Esther's heart stopped, for just a moment. Her lips formed to shape his name in the barest of whispers.

"**You should fear me, human and yet… you know my name. How….**_**why…?"**_

It didn't matter, Esther told herself sternly. It didn't matter that he seemed to have no memory of her, it didn't matter if _this_ was the price she had to pay, the penance for her own grievous sin. As long as he was _alive_, moving and breathing in front of her. Tears streaked down her cheeks, blurring her vision but she drew a deep, shuddering breath so that she could finally speak to him, somehow get him to trust her enough so she could get him out of this place.

And then, suddenly, he was there, in front of her, a slender taloned finger delicately brushing away her tears.

"**Don't cry," **he whispered. **"I can't bear to see your tears... I **_**know**_** you, don't I?"**

"You do," she said tremulously. "You do know me."

"**Bright star…" **He murmured, drawing her closer, framing her face with his hands. **"My Esther."**

His eyes were now caught somewhere between crimson and blue and memory was there and so was tenderness and desire and love. He'd begun by gently kissing away her tears and she could hear the rustling of his wings as he folded her close to him. And when finally, he'd brushed his lips against hers, she wanted to weep anew at the sweetness of it.

Alive. Whole. Abel was back again. It was more than enough, this miracle – she could not, _would not_ dare ask for more.

"**I remember now," **he whispers again, close to her ear, brushing another kiss at that point where her pulse beat in time with his own. **"Always yours. Always on your side."**

"Always," she answers in turn, her hands unerringly threading through his long silver hair.

Alive. Whole. The rest of the world could wait.

The rest of the world could wait forever.

-tbc-


	3. Part III

**Requiem: Death Shall Have No Dominion  
**_By Darth Stitch_

**DISCLAIMER: **Same as previous chapter

**Four – Though Hell Shall Bar The Way **

"…_**Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,  
Then look for me by the moonlight, watch for me by the moonlight,  
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell shall bar the way."**_

- The Highwayman, by Alfred Noyes, as performed by Loreena McKennit

He remembers the stars shining brightly against the darkness of space.

He remembers seeing the deep blue of the planet that he knew was his true home, so starkly different from the crimson sands of Mars.

For once, Abel Nightroad knows a sense of peace, out among the stars, and yet, it is the beautiful blue planet that fills him with yearning.

The deepest, darkest blue…. like _her _eyes.

And then, he realizes that he can know no contentment here, in this Place of starlight, at least while _she_ is calling out to him.

And so, he returns, to pain and sorrow and suffering and the first thing he sees is the Hated Other

(once dearly loved)

and the first thing he feels is that familiar burning rage. He is filled now with new strength to match it and allows himself to unfurl black wings and take to the skies once more, a clear challenge to the Hated Other to follow.

Shattered memories offer up this one's name, bitter gall on his tongue – _Cain. _

Weapons are unsheathed, fangs and claws are bared, blue and red lightning split the stormy skies. The Nightlord twins spare no words in their battle – their war is an ancient one and the grudges will never be forgiven. Wounds are exchanged and easily healed and even as Abel trades blows with Cain, his oldest memories are running through his mind, when they were both young, when Seth was still a precocious child barely out of toddlerhood and Lilith was still alive.

The vision is so clear to him…. Lilith's golden eyes dark with her disappointment and tiny Seth worrying over him. Seth is almost always on his side, even when all the rest are not. And Cain stands there with his sweet smile and gentle words and his apparently never-ending optimism, in love with life and everything in it, turning a seemingly deaf ear and a blind eye to the fearful whispers around them, the envious and hateful looks.

It is so easy to do that when Cain commands everyone else's love and adoration, the bright and shining twin, the finest accomplishment of the Red Mars Project.

Lies, all of it… Cain is his twin, his other self and Abel knows full well that Cain is filled with that same hatred, that same rage… only _he_ will never speak of it, content to let Abel give voice to all of that resentment.

It is always so – that the twins would reflect the other – sun and moon, darkness and light.

And Abel hears Lilith whisper to him, "If your hatred and despair is the reflection of Cain's, then is not his love and hope the reflection of your own?"

_How many times must I forgive my brother, O Lord? _

_Seventy times seven… for God's grace is without end for those who seek it. _

How can Abel forgive Cain when he cannot forgive himself?

Cain's last strike takes out a wing and a leg and Abel deals back a wound no less serious and crippling.

They fall together … back into the deep blue of the Earth, with the nanomachines already mending their flesh and bone back into perfect wholeness.

And once more, the memories follow Abel, trying to sort themselves in some semblance of order, some measure of sanity.

And in that voice which has followed Abel in his nightmares, he once again hears Cain tell him, "Rejoice, O brother, for I have removed the negative element at long last…"

Lilith's eyes… golden as the sun, dark and dull with death, her severed head dangling by the hair in Cain's outstretched hand…

_Her_ eyes… the dark deep blue of the Earth, call out to him one more time.

The knowledge of _Her_ teases him, eludes him, hovers on the edge of his tattered mind and soul.

A sound startles him out of his mental wanderings and he leaps to his feet, wings outstretched, feet firmly on the ground, scythe in hand. Had Cain found him once more?

And then, he sees _her_… that blood-red hair, those eyes of deepest blue filled with tears, her voice a bare whisper, giving him his name.

Alive. Whole.

Human.

The humans, who had feared him, called him names like monster and demon but _she_ simply stands there and looks at him with those beautiful eyes, calling him by his true name. And in that moment, everything in him goes utterly calm and still.

He has caused so many to shed tears before but not like this, not this ache, this pain, that makes him step forward and dare to touch her with his bloody, claw-fingered, _monstrous_ hands, fighting not to tremble at the way she seems to _welcome_, to _need _that first contact of skin against skin. Not in this way that makes him speak and realize the truth in his words:

_Don't cry. I can't bear to see your tears._

_I __know__ you, don't I?_

And she answers him, her voice near to breaking and ah, God, it _hurt_ to hear it.

_Bright star_, he finds himself calling her and in giving her name in turn, the scattered, broken pieces of his mind and memory finally settle down, center solely on her.

That first, tentative touch is not enough, for either of them. He tastes the salt of her tears against the softness of her skin, brushes gentle kisses down to the hollow of her throat, where he can breathe in her scent, feel her heartbeat pulse against his lips. He smiles faintly when he feels her hands in his hair, just as he too folds his wings close around her, whispers the very first promise he has ever made to her, a renewal of the bond between them.

_Always yours. Always on your side…_

Esther. Now Abel Nightroad knows he is whole, with her safe and sound in his arms.

There were so many stars in that Place where he had wandered to but she was the one who had shone the brightest, leading him home at last.

* * *

**Five – Within the Darkness **

_**I am a vision, I am justice  
**__**Never thought that I could love  
**__**Living in shadows, faded existence  
**__**It was never good enough**_

_**Within the darkness, you were the light  
**__**That shines away  
**__**You're trapped in violence, I can be the man  
**__**That saves the day**_

"For You," The Calling, Daredevil OST

The world cannot be kept at bay for long.

The sound of footsteps and voices made the Crusnik snarl softly and draw Esther protectively against him. His beloved's tears rendered him utterly undone – his first instinct was to destroy anything that threatened her, make sure that she was _safe. _

"_Madre de Dios." _Someone swore and Abel _knew_ that there was a name and a face that he should assign that voice to but the nanomachines were still active within his body, demanding that blood be shed. Blue-tinged lips drew back, exposing shark-like teeth.

"Silly love," Esther whispered to him, reaching up to stroke his cheek. As always, she could sense the tangled mess of his emotions and his none-too-stable memories and knew best how to soothe him.

Carefully she turned around to face the others, Abel's arm wrapping around her waist, instinctively protective. "It's all right," she tells them, calmly. And then, to him, "Abel, it's the Professor and Father Leon, remember?"

William Walter Wordsworth – The Professor. Leon Garcia de Asturias – Dandelion. The two priests

(and had he not considered these men of the Church his enemies long ago?)

were staring at him with a mixture of shock, relief and understandably a little fear and wariness. Abel reached back in his mind for other pieces of information, the other memories. AX. Tres Iquus, Gunslinger, the partner he worked with the most, aside from Esther. Father Hugue de Watteau, Sword Dancer. Sister Kate, the Captain of the Iron Maiden. Little Caterina Sforza…. no, little Caterina was a woman grown now, the lady Cardinal known as the Woman of Steel.

Abel bent his head so he could press his nose into Esther's hair, breathe in the scent of her. He needed to place the restrictions back on the Crusnik nanomachines and it was proving incredibly difficult. He'd thought, long ago, that fusing 100% with the blasted things was the root of Cain's madness. And yet now, finding himself in that same position, he found that it was Esther's very presence that he was clinging to, grounding him.

A mental command had him bringing down the restrictions to 40 percent. He couldn't quite manage to bring himself back all way, not quite yet.

"We come in peace," Dandelion told him, waving a parcel that apparently seemed to contain clothes. "I don't think Sister Red's gonna mind you wearing your birthday suit there but we don't want to traumatize Sister Kate."

"Father Leon!" Esther blushed and very prettily too.

Abel felt his wings twitch and this time, he absolutely had no compunction looking up and baring his fangs in a wry grin. "Come a little closer, Leon. I'm not going to bite, _much_."

"We've been hauling ass over half of Albion looking for your scrawny hide and this is the thanks we get?" Dandelion exclaimed. He tossed the parcel of clothes over to Esther, who squeaked and almost dropped the things but Abel steadied her.

"Leon, now, really, play nice!" The Professor scolded. He waved his pipe at Abel cheerily. "Good to have you back, old chap."

"As long as he doesn't go all 'grr' and 'arrrgh' on us, it's all great," Father Leon quipped.

"Grr? Arrrgh?" Abel tried, his sense of humor beginning to resurface, the old patterns of banter and teasing easy to slip back into.

Esther giggled. "Don't encourage him!"

The Professor sighed. "Neither of them _need_ much encouragement."

They had also brought a blanket with them and Abel used this as a makeshift hood to obscure his face as they returned to Buckingham Palace. He also used the too-long sleeves of his cassock to hide his hands – gloves would have been useless for fingers still tipped with sharp talons. He had no idea how Leon did it but blessed him anyway for managing to find clothes that were a couple of sizes larger, no mean feat since Abel was pretty much the tallest member of AX. The last thing any of them wanted was to scare any of the Albionian Terrans (or God forbid, the Albionian _Methuselah_) half to death with the sight of him.

Professor Wordsworth insisted on checking Abel over carefully first, so he was brought to a private room in the infirmary. Abel was, in fact, mostly unscathed, if in need of an infusion of Methuselah blood, which the Professor oversaw personally. Sister Kate had already dropped in to see him and took the opportunity to give Abel a good scolding, with tears of happiness in her eyes, telling him that he really ought not to take years off their lives by scaring them all like that. And then, the peace and quiet after her visit allowed him to finally more or less bring his memories in order, even if Abel still couldn't quite revert back to normal human form.

And then, once the Professor was satisfied that Abel was perfectly healthy and despite all appearances was not about to go on a rampage for vampire blood, he was finally left alone with his tiny, precious and very formidable wife. Esther had to glare Leon into submission when he refused to leave "the lovebirds" by themselves and firmly shooed him out of the room.

Finally, Abel learned precisely how they had….well, for a lack of a better word, _resurrected_ him and he would forever be grateful to Lilith, Caterina and Tres, whose repairs were almost done – surviving a skirmish with Cain was no mean feat, even for a Killing Doll. This was also how he learned about his wife's surprising change in status – what was it about the two of them that they _both_ somehow seemed to end up in the most absurd of fairy tales?

"Your Most Royal Majesty, Queen Esther," he teased her, deliberately exaggerating the title. "It suits you perfectly."

She blushed, hotly. "I am _not…. _oooh, this is payback for that whole Prince business, isn't it?"

"Seth will never let you live it down, you should know that."

She whimpered and buried her face in his shoulder. "Can't I just go into one of those nice, secluded, contemplative Orders instead?"

Carefully, he tipped her chin up so he could look into her face (always a good thing, because it allowed him to steal kisses at will, although he had to be a little bit careful of his fangs). "I'd join you but… it's too late."

The dark blue eyes sparkled. "Too late?"

He heaved a sigh, deliberately hamming it up for her benefit, feeling the nanomachines slowly, _finally_ rest within him. "Caterina would dismember me, Seth would finish what she started… it would be all my fault and none of them would think it was _your_ idea to begin with!"

She sighed, completely unfazed by now with the sudden changes in his appearance. "We can't have that happen. My poor Abel." This time, much to his delight, she did her share of stealing kisses.

And then, she drew back, took his hand and tapped his ring finger. "You're missing a few things, Father Nightroad."

"I'm missing my glasses and my hair ribbon – you wouldn't happen to know where they could be, do you?" He in fact knew exactly _what_ was missing but he did so enjoy teasing her.

She pouted and let go of his hand. "Abel!" She waved his wedding ring in front of him. "I'm beginning to think that you don't want this back at all…"

"Esther," he said softly, taking her hand in turn and tapping _her _wedding ring . "I am well, truly and most happily caught by you and no one else. With this ring, I thee wed, remember?"

"And death will not part us," she answered, as she slid the ring back onto his finger. He could see her deliberately try to blink away her tears, try for a smile.

"Never," he affirmed, kissing her soundly again. Later, when he was less distracted, he noted, with concern, the shadows under her eyes that spoke of little to no rest, the slight tremor of her hands.

He caught those hands again, so small and fragile and precious between his own large ones. _My poor Esther_. "You should sleep, love."

"I'll have time enough for that. You should rest too."

Stubborn as always and oh, how he loved her for it. "I'll join you in a little while. And yes, love, I'll be here when you wake."

He coaxed her to lie down in the narrow infirmary bed that was meant for him, nuzzling her gently until she relented and closed her eyes.

"Don't be too long," she whispered and he murmured a "yes" as he pressed one last kiss in the hollow of her throat.

It would be a snug fit once he curled around her later, although he knew perfectly well she would not mind. He sorely needed the comfort of her presence as well.

There were other concerns, there were certain things that needed to be done. But, deliberately, he pushed them from his mind now. He would take this small piece of time, cherish it, watch over Esther as he had always done, thank Lilith in his prayers for this unlooked-for second chance.

He would take that small piece of time and make it last for as long as he possibly could.

**- tbc -**

**Author's Notes: **"Seventy times seven" – refers to Matthew 18:22 in the Bible's New Testament. I thought it fitting, especially for Abel and Cain.

Yes, we still have more coming!


	4. Part IV

**Requiem: Death Shall Have No Dominion  
**_By Darth Stitch_

**DISCLAIMER: **Same as previous chapter

**  
Six – Declaration **

_**It's my declaration to anyone who's listening  
**__**You're my inspiration as I stand alone against the world  
**_'_**Cause you love…. can you bleed ?  
**_'_**Cause you stole my soul and set me free  
**__**It's my declaration…**_

- "Declaration," David Cook

He missed her.

Virgil Walsh, the Count of Manchester, had spent a considerable amount of his very long life in service to Queen and country.

There had been a lot of things demanded of him by the Crown and he had given it all, freely, for the sake of his family and fellow Methuselah. The Ghetto was initially meant to be a sanctuary from the turmoil of the world outside – he'd seen for himself what remained of those ancient records pre- and post-Armageddon. All that he and his people had ever wanted was to be left alone in peace – he had spoken only but the truth to the young nun who was, in fact, his future Queen.

He harbored no anger against the Terrans – why should he, when it was perfectly understandable why _they_ should hate and fear them, when there was a long, long tradition, ingrained into their very genes, of this horror against his kind? His younger sister Vanessa found this difficult to understand, had railed against it for so long, wondering how he, Virgil, found it in himself to be compassionate, to even show _friendship_ towards the Terrans.

And yet, Brigid, Queen of Albion, had been different.

He'd watched her grow from a child to a young woman to the old, worn creature who had asked him, with her last breath, to find Albion's long-lost "Star of Hope." He'd been by her side through all her joys and her sorrows and he found that it was impossible to maintain that careful objectivity and distance around her. He had served the Crown loyally but out of all of the monarchs he had sworn fealty to, it was Brigid alone who had not only been his Queen, but also his dearest friend, all the years of her life.

Oh, how he would miss her.

Finding her successor to the throne was a quest that should, by rights, be near impossible to fulfill but Brigid had such faith in him.

And here, with Sister Esther Blanchett, was that faith rewarded.

Her hair was the vibrant red that Queen Brigid's had been in her younger years, her eyes that same dark blue, though there was an even greater delicacy in her features that called to mind her mother's. Oh, she wasn't a virtual clone of the former Queen, but she had that kind of strength, courage and compassion that would make a ruler Virgil would be proud to serve.

There was a moment that he had feared for the young woman when he saw how she mourned that priest who had fallen in the line of duty. No one could help but suspect that they had been more than simply just partners in a dangerous profession. But he'd seen her gather herself together, set her sorrow aside and carry on, much as Brigid had, after her own grievous losses.

Young Queen Esther was more fortunate than her predecessor in this, when the news came that the priest she mourned was in fact, alive. The AX agents who had come to rescue the Pope were strangely evasive when pressed to explain how this could happen, especially when Virgil himself had seen his young Queen mourning her beloved at his _wake._

But Virgil was beginning to form his own suspicions.

There were reports about the great battle between the Archangel Michael and Lucifer that had taken place in the skies. Virgil might have been inclined to dismiss these reports as hysterical hallucinations, busy as they were fighting against the Rosen Kruez Orden's air ship and its terrifying Armageddon-era weaponry. Indeed, the Vatican… at least, Cardinal Caterina Sforza, was encouraging that notion and _that_ alone might have been enough to arouse Virgil's curiosity.

However, visions of a war between angels and demons weren't exactly that unlikely, given the descriptions of _certain_ battles during the Armageddon and certain… _participants_ in that ancient war.

And Virgil had even more reason to form some very interesting theories especially when he had examined the records on how the Vatican's AX agents, including those two members of the Inquisition, Brother Petros Orcini and Sister Paula Souwauski, had all managed to get into the underground Ghetto using an entryway no one had remembered even existed in _centuries_.

Fascinating.

The news came that the Catholic contingent had now returned and that their search was successful. Captain Mary Spencer had not been pleased to find out that their new Queen had gone out to join the search as if she were still in fact just another Vatican nun. It was understandable – Esther was in fact now the last of a once-flourishing Royal House and none of them wished to see a virtual stranger sitting on the throne.

_She will have sorrow and sacrifice enough when she begins her reign. Let her have what happiness she can. _

Still, it was his duty to seek out his Queen and see that she was all right – Mary would have gone herself, if she had not been wounded and Virgil suspected _that_ would not have been a prudent idea. As long as he, Virgil, could account for the Queen, Mary would be content. The Captain was wary of most Methuselah but she did bestow a wary trust upon him.

He found that private room in the Palace's infirmary easily, first knocking twice at the door. When he received no answer, he opened the door, half-expecting that he had somehow stumbled into the wrong room.

Red eyes gleamed in the dim light. In alarm, Virgil prepared to attack, taking in all the details of the room at once, the unconscious figure of his queen on the bed, still in her nun's habit, the strange Methuselah standing between him and Her Majesty, wearing a priest's cassock.

Wait. A priest's _cassock?_

"You are Virgil Walsh, the Count of Manchester, are you not?"The priest – the _Methuselah?_ – asked him.

The accent was faintly Albionian, incongruous in those fierce, oddly alien features, yet its very familiarity was strangely comforting.

"You have the advantage of me," Virgil said carefully, unable to help but look at those claw-tipped hands. Something glinted silver on one slender finger. "Who are you?"

The red eyes changed to violet, followed Virgil's gaze. He held up his hands and swore. "Oh, bloody hell." The Albionian accent was even sharper now, in his agitation. The violet in his eyes gave way to a cool winter blue and his entire expression changed from ferocious to rueful, though delicate fangs still peeked from those reddened lips. "I apologize – you startled me when you suddenly came in and I am never quite… _reasonable_ when it comes to Esther's safety." He glanced carefully at Esther then and smiled faintly, seeing that she was still peacefully asleep.

And just like that, things clicked into place for Virgil. There was a special code that had been used to get into that long-forgotten entryway into the Ghetto, a code that yielded only one name.

"Commander Abel Nightlord," Virgil breathed softly.

The man corrected him gently. "I haven't gone by that _other_ name…not for a very long time, my Lord Walsh. It is Abel _Nightroad, _now. "

"I think that it is I who should be showing you deference, not the other way around," Virgil answered. Again, his eyes were drawn to that glint of silver on Nightroad's finger – a simple wedding band, not the usual adornment of a Catholic priest (Abel Nightlord, a _Catholic_ _priest_, imagine that!), though it was no longer unheard of in this new day and age. "Your rank and titles…"

"…Are all meaningless, save perhaps for one or two," Nightroad's lips quirked in a wry little smile, even as he absently fiddled with the wedding band on his finger. "I should be allowed at least that, don't you think? I'm rather fond of a couple of those."

Wedding band.

Knees suddenly weak, Virgil found himself reaching weakly for a chair to sit on before he could completely embarrass himself in front of his rightful Prince and Lord.

"Oh dear… would you like some water? I don't see how putting one's head between one's knees could help but you're welcome to try that as well…" The words were so kind and yet so utterly _inane…_

"This is madness," Virgil protested.

"I've tried that for a few centuries. Didn't do a thing for me," Nightroad told him cheerfully. "Though perhaps I shouldn't blame you if you doubt my sanity now…"

"Parliament will have a fit," Virgil said faintly, his mind spinning. Hadn't just the Empress of the New Human Empire recently announced the return of her beloved _brother? _

"To say nothing of the Inquisition and His Holy Nibs Cardinal Francesco di Medici," Nightroad continued, winter blue eyes dancing with merriment. "I am sorry, my Lord Walsh. Esther and I both seem to have a knack for getting into the most absurd predicaments possible."

Virgil giggled and was promptly horrified at himself for the undignified reaction. No, he did not just make that totally inappropriate sound. Never happened.

"I would appreciate it if you could kindly have your required fit of hysterics outside this room, my Lord. My wife _does_ need her rest."

_My wife_. And those two very simple words sobered Virgil Walsh right up. He remembered those old records once more, that Abel Nightlord was not the only creation spawned by the Red Mars Project.

So close, his Queen had been so close to the one they called the Angel of Death...

"Your… _brother_ has absolutely no idea of who and what she is to you," Virgil was quite sure of it. He was equally sure that Cain Knightlord would most likely not remain ignorant of this for long.

"_He_ and his minions have reason enough to want her death now," Nightroad said, the laughter disappearing from his eyes in an instant, leaving them colder than ice. "There is no need to add one more."

Nightroad glanced down at the peacefully sleeping little Queen again and just for a moment, his expression was unguarded, filled with tenderness and his features were now utterly and completely human. _His_ wife, Abel had calmly declared to him, and now, Virgil could truly understand the depth of Queen Esther's grief when she had thought Abel Nightroad dead.

And then, Virgil _knew_ that his Prince would have no other course of action to take. "It will deeply grieve her should you leave her again, my Lord Prince."

Nightroad closed his eyes. "And you know that I have no other choice. Not at this time."

"A hard choice," Virgil said softly. Abel Nightroad did not need his pity but Virgil could give his understanding, as he had always given it before. And it would not be difficult to once more swear his loyalty and fealty to this particular man.

"I have made them before…. and sometimes, my choices are not always the wisest," Nightroad answered, almost talking to himself. And then, he looked directly at Virgil. "But I will do all that I can to see her safe and well."

"As will we all, my Lord Prince… you may depend on it," Virgil declared and his words had the ring of promise to them. Yes, he would follow this man and his new Queen to the ends of the earth should they ask it of him.

Nightroad muttered something that sounded suspiciously like: _I will _never _get used to this ridiculous 'Prince' business…_ but in a much louder voice he answered, "Thank you, my Lord."

Virgil bowed as much as to show his respect to the man as well as trying to hide his considerable amusement. It would be interesting to serve in the reign of his new Queen and her Consort.

Esther Blanchett, Catholic nun and one of the famed AX agents of the Church, Albion's Star of Hope, the Lady-Saint of Istvan.

Abel Nightroad, The long lost Prince of a mighty Empire. One of the legendary Night Lords. AX agent and Catholic warrior priest.

It would have delighted Queen Brigid to no end.

Oh, he and all of Albion, Methuselahs and Terrans, would be in for truly interesting times indeed.

Virgil knew that he would have to leave them now, all too aware that each moment the couple would have alone together would be precious, but he could not resist giving this parting shot. "This royalty business _can_ be a little ridiculous at times but I believe it will be an honor to serve you, my Lord Prince."

The look on Abel Nightroad's face was absolutely priceless as Virgil took his leave of his Prince and Queen.

**-tbc-**

**Author's Notes: **

Poor Abel can't get any respect around here, eh? (chortles)

I had a heck of a time trying to pull this together and I finally managed to pull it off – Virgil was just doing too much OMGWTF-ing when I sprang his role on him. (chortles again) I have been doing some creative canon tweaking around here – the anime doesn't really state how much Virgil knows about the Nightlords and the old history and I only just have a few of the translated novels. Still, I thought I could pull this off. Virgil comes off as unusually well-informed in the anime and I always have had the impression that he would know the real history of the Armageddon and the Red Mars Project, especially since Albion has managed to preserve a lot of the pre-Armageddon technology.

**Abel's accent** – Alas, I have NO access to the English-dub anime DVDs and forget about downloading them – iStore hates my country and I am too poor to afford DSL at home right now. I've only heard bits and pieces of Troy Baker's performance as Abel. Mind, I'm Filipino so I'm no expert on Western accents but from the little that I've heard, Abel _does_ sound very faintly English rather than American (okay, so he doesn't drawl like a cowboy, yeah?). Or maybe Troy just gives Abel a much cleaner, non-distinct accent. I'd love to know the thoughts of the Westerners reading this fic. In any case, my Abel has always sounded "English" or "British" in my head and the accent just gets more noticeable when he's freaking out. We all know Abel's originally from Albion. Just as Cain, of course, would sound somewhat Germanic – he originally came from Germany after all.

We're getting towards the end of this fic. Stay tuned!

As always, I LOVE the reviews and the comments. And a huge thank you for everyone who has been following the series since the very beginning! Cheers!


	5. Part V

**Requiem: Death Shall Have No Dominion  
**_By Darth Stitch_

**DISCLAIMER: **Same as previous chapter

* * *

**Seven – What About Love**

_**There's a hole in the sky tonight  
Did the moon drift too far from sight  
I would search through this empty darkness  
To see your face in the morning light**_

**_We've been lost in a sea of confusion  
Got caught up in a selfish illusion  
But make no mistake: I will bend till I break  
Don't let fate make the choice for us_**

**_What about love that lasts forever?  
What about time to see it through?  
If you don't give you just don't get it  
What about me?  
What about you?_**

**_What about love?_**

**_-_** "What About Love," Meatloaf

The bells were ringing all over Albion today.

_The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen! _

The people of Albion had chanted these words for hundreds of years. Thus did they mourn the passing of one monarch and celebrate the coming of the next.

The people of Albion had believed, at first, that with the death of Crown Prince Gilbert, the royal line would die out. Instead, their hope had been renewed when their long-lost Princess Esther was finally restored to her throne and her people.

Already, there were whispers of change with the ascension of Princess Esther to Albion's throne. The people of Londinium were awed by her courage, as she rallied them to stand together on that terrible day that the Palace was attacked by Methuselah extremists, taking His Holiness the Pope hostage. They would never forget the image of her standing upon the roof of the Palace, dressed in her white nun's habit, a bright star on that long, dark night.

Albion's Terran subjects did not like to think of the Methuselah who lived in the Underground Ghetto. It was enough that their technology allowed Albion to live in freedom and peace. But this was always to be an uneasy coexistence. "Out of sight, out of mind," so many people thought.

And yet, it was these same Methuselah who had rallied to defend Albion and her people against her enemies, working together in an unprecedented move, with the Roman Catholic Church. Terrans and Methuselahs working together – was this the beginning of a new age? Were they all finally to emerge from the dark times wrought by the Armaggedon at long last?

All over Albion, the bells were ringing.

Today, Esther Blanchett, once a nun of the Catholic Church, would be crowned the new Queen of Albion.

***

_Esther had known that Abel would say goodbye. _

_She knew that he could not stay with her, at least not at this point in time. She had known the enormity of the burden he carried, that desire to atone for his terrible sins. She had hoped to stay by his side, as he had by hers, on that eternal quest. But now, both of them were irrevocably bound by duty to different paths – she to the throne of Albion and Abel to his past and a promise made to a martyred saint…_

**Igne Natura Renovatur Integra - through fire shall all of nature be renewed**

_Dietrich had spoken those words to her long ago, mockingly, giving her false hopes and taking delight in her naiveté. _

**Cain spoke the Word and I wrote That in the flesh and bones of the humans of this world.**

**I wrote it in their blood, Esther and even now, I'll never wash that away...**

_Abel had revealed to her the truth behind Dietrich's lie, expecting that she would turn away from him in horror and disgust, as others had done before. _

_It was not her place to forgive him, though she gave that to him and more. _

_It was not her place to grant him atonement – he first had to forgive himself and she knew that he probably never would. And yet, each day, she could see hope rekindled in him. And she was glad that she could help bring that to him, as he had for her, on that long ago night in Istvan, when she in turn, had thought her world was falling to pieces all around her. _

***

Esther's steps were measured and steady as she walked down the long aisle of Westminster Abbey.

The ceremonial gown, the rich robes and the jewels were heavy and stiff but somehow she managed to carry them off with grace, conscious of the eyes upon her.

There were the common people of Albion, cheering her outside. There were the peers of the realm, aristocrats from ancient and noble families and the members of the House of Commons. They would expect much of her – it was a terrifying prospect and she breathed a fervent prayer that she would not fail any of them.

There were familiar faces too. The AX Members and the Inquisition was there, in their formal dress robes and armor. Even Sister Kate, though she could only ever appear as a holographic image, somehow managed to adjust her appearance so she would be seen wearing her formal nun's habit. The Professor was beaming. Father Tres, his repairs complete, and Father Hugue were impassive as always. Brother Petros nodded solemnly at her, with Sister Paula actually managing a slight smile in her direction.

Father Leon, ever incorrigible, tipped her a mischievous wink.

Virgil Walsh, the Count of Manchester and his sister Vanessa, quietly pardoned for the role she played in the abduction of the Pope, were present as well, including many of the Ghetto Methuselah. There were even children present and one small little imp, reminding Esther of Isabel, somehow managed to sneak in her pet rabbit. She was smiling and waving happily at the young Pope, who waved shyly back.

Esther had specifically asked that they be in attendance. No longer would she ask Albion's Methuselah to hide in the shadows. Inevitably there were those who objected but Captain Mary Spencer was the first to show obedience to her new Queen and threw in her support.

But what had really shocked all of them was that the young Pope himself, shy and retiring Alessandro, had solidly backed Esther up. Indeed, he was the one who had insisted that the Lady Vanessa be pardoned. They had all been made the dupes of the Rosen Kreuz Orden and it was high time that they stopped dancing to the Orden's tune. Lady Caterina, pleased and delighted at her younger brother's new show of maturity and strength, backed him up over Cardinal Francesco's outraged objections.

"Did not the Lord Jesus bid us to forgive and love our enemies?" The little Pope had said softly, but with an underlying strength to his words. The citing of Scripture and the subtle jab at the conservative Cardinal's apparent questioning of Papal infallibility silenced the Duke of Florence and Tuscany, at least for the moment. Even Brother Petros was seen trying to wipe away a surreptitious tear at His Holiness' wisdom (no, that stalwart Knight of the Church was absolutely _not_ crying – the very idea!).

The Pope, wearing the triple crown of the Papacy and bearing his Pastoral Staff, was waiting at the altar. For the first time in hundreds of years, he and not the Archbishop of Canterbury, would crown a Queen Regnant of Albion. It was a visible symbol of the reconciliation between the Catholic Church and the Church of Old England.

_Terrans…. Methuselahs. They are all equal in the eyes of the Empress. _Seth had told her once. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

_The Marquis Gyula… The Reverend Mother Laura… we're all just the same. And I promise to do all that I can so we can have a world where Terrans and Methuselah can live in peace. _She'd sworn that to herself, just before she followed Abel to Rome. She had so many questions… she had first believed that the world was so simple – black and white, vampires and humans, evil and good, her quest for justice and revenge. She had thought that Abel would hold most of the answers to those questions.

Instead, she had realized that she needed to find those answers on her own, as Abel was doing. But they were walking down that road together.

But now, she was alone, although surrounded by all the familiar faces of her friends and chosen family, the people she loved and cared for. Only she would make the vows that would bind her in service to throne and country. Only she would be accountable for her oath.

They were all here, to bear witness as the Pope set the crown on her head.

All except one.

***

_Abel took his leave of her at dawn. _

_He could not stay for the coronation – there could be not one indication that he would care to stay for the new Queen of Albion. Cain must believe that Abel's only focus was on finding him and ending their war once and for all. It would be so like Cain, feed his monstrous ego, that pride that would acknowledge no other than his own self to be sole center of the universe. _

_Esther had promised herself that she would not weep, that his last image of her would not be a face stained with tears. She would be brave and strong, send him on his way with every blessing she could think of. _

"_I really am proud of you, you know," Abel told her, upon learning about her intentions towards having the Ghetto Methuselah present during her coronation. "You will make a good Queen – you've always been wiser than I have ever been." _

"_I wish you could stay," she whispered, the words tumbling out unwillingly. She blushed hotly, incensed at herself and cast her eyes down. "No – never mind, I know why you must go…"_

"_Esther." Gentle fingers tipped her chin up so she could look at him. At that time, Abel's hair lay unbound over his shoulders, the glasses nowhere in sight. He was dressed in the robes and full armor of the Catholic warrior priest that he was. But this time, he faced her with none of his usual masks. _

_He was just Abel, her husband and the man she loved. _

"_Cain and I… things must be settled between us. It has been long overdue. For all our sakes, I need to end this. And I want… I _need _you to be safe," And at that last, his voice broke and he drew her close and she was fiercely glad that he held on to her like he never wanted to let her go, murmuring disjointed endearments in her ear. _

_He had always been more eloquent than this – but she could understand this so much better somehow. _

"_Come home safely," she whispered into his robes, holding on just as tight. "Promise me." _

"_Home," he breathed softly. "Where you are will always be home. I promise." _

***

The Crown of Albion was heavy, an obvious symbol of the burden Esther would bear, if there ever was one. However, the Pope smiled at her as he made his benediction, a clear reminder to Esther that this would not be a burden she would really bear alone.

She needed to have faith and to hope – was that not what their religion had preached all along?

She smiled at the young man, the latest in a long line of successors to the throne of St. Peter, the Rock on whom Christ had built his Church. She had known him as an unassuming, gentle boy – seemingly too fragile for his office, overshadowed by his stronger siblings. But now, he too was finding his own strength and she was glad of it.

Their eyes met and they smiled at each other – he liked her and had been fast friends ever since they had first met in his private gardens in Rome. Together, they held hands and faced the assembly of Methuselahs and Terrans.

All were equal.

All were human.

"For a better world," Esther and Pope Alessandro whispered together.

It was a promise.

* * *

**EPILOGUE – So Beautiful Tonight **

_**The more you see the less you know  
The less you find out as you go  
I knew much more then than I do now**_

**_Neon heart day-glow eyes  
A city lit by fireflies  
They're advertising in the skies  
For people like us_**

**_And I miss you when you're not around  
I'm getting ready to leave the ground_**

**_Oh you look so beautiful tonight  
In the city of blinding lights_**

_**- **_"The City of Blinding Lights," U2

It took longer than he thought it would.

Abel had gone back to the facility where he had been created hundreds of years ago, the triumph of the British contingent involved in the Red Mars Project.

Mankind's dream of reaching the stars, the exploration of new worlds – oh how naïve they had been.

The outer building, of course, was in ruins – he would know. He himself had led the assault on it during the last Great War. Abel had taken a perverse kind of pride in the utter destruction of the laboratory and the unfeeling, uncaring scientists who worked within. How dared they play God, create an innocent child in their perceived image of perfection, only to cast him aside as a flawed tool? How dared they treat another human being as simply another _object_, not a person, slave to their whims?

Abel Nightlord had thought his revenge sweet then.

Now, he could only look back on those memories of death and destruction, those blood-and-gore-spattered images with horror and grief.

And the guilt was never ending.

The underground facilities were, of course, intact. Abel had taken care to wipe the computers clean of all data pertaining to the creation of the Red Mars Project's "New Humans." He had also destroyed all the hard copies of that information, taking care to leave no trace. Those long-ago scientists and doctors, had, in their arrogance, called it the Blueprint of the Gods.

Cain had once claimed, delirious with the new power granted to him by the Crusnik nanomachines, that they – the Nightlords – were indeed Gods.

Abel intended that the Blueprint of the Gods would be stored in one place only and Cain would never get his hands on it.

He knew his twin's intentions now – it should have been obvious from the very start. Cain intended to gather what he could of the lost pre-Armageddon technology so he could have his glorious war and restore his body. Abel intended to deny this to him with his very last breath.

There were other places in the world where lost technology might be found and bent to the twisted designs of the Rosen Kruez Orden. And not just in _this_ world…

He emerged from the underground laboratory where he had been born. It was already twilight – the sun was almost gone over the horizon and the moons were rising in the sky. Absently, Abel tied back his hair, slipped his glasses on.

_The Road goes over on and on…_

The fragment of an old poem floated in his mind, taken from one of Seth's favorite fantasy books. He had a long Road to walk and promises to keep.

He sensed, rather than heard, the presence following him.

It _would_ be a Methuselah – no ordinary human could move so quietly. Abel turned to regard young Ion Fortuna, the Count of Memphis, cloaked against the fading sunlight. The boy's expression was grave and serious.

"I knew that you lived," Ion told him.

Abel sighed. "Perhaps I was simply unfortunate enough to be condemned to return."

Ion glared at him. "If you love Esther at all, then you do not mean those words."

"I _love_ Esther enough to want nothing but her happiness and her safety," Abel told him sternly. "She is my life, Ion – I need not say more."

Ion had the grace to blush and look away.

"She might have chosen you, you realize," Abel said in a softer tone. "Perhaps it might have been wiser."

"No," Ion admitted. "There was never any question of choice. Not for Esther. She has always made her own decisions, hasn't she?" A faint little smile curved Ion's lips and then, in a quieter tone: "I have my own questions."

"I do not have your answers, Ion Fortuna," Abel answered him, looking at him steadily.

"I know… my lord Prince," Ion said and there was no mockery in the way he granted Abel the title. "I know that the Rosen Kreuz Orden wishes us all to destroy each other, pulling at us like puppets on strings. I know they took away my… _tovarishch." _And at that his voice faltered and he bit his lip, drawing blood. "I will have justice for him. I will have them answer for what they have done."

And at this, Ion looked directly at Abel, determination in his gaze. "I wish to go with you."

Oh God. He did not want to take this child, this innocent – not on this kind of journey. There was so much blood on his hands already – he could not bear to add Ion's to that already long list of death.

There was no need to tell Ion how dangerous it was – the boy already knew and so Abel gave him the truth, nothing more. "I will let nothing stand in my way – I am prepared to do whatever it takes to destroy… the Orden." Cain's name remained unspoken but it was there, bringing with it as always that fierce, sharp ache in his chest.

"It is _my_ choice, my lord Prince," Ion answered clearly.

Abel closed his eyes. Yes, it was Ion's choice and but for a crown, it might have been _Esther_ who would be standing before him, asking to accompany him on this long and terrible road.

_We all make our own choices and live with the consequences of our actions. _Abel had read that somewhere once, recognized its truth and it was like a prayer running through his mind right now. Or perhaps it was an answer to one.

"Your choice," Abel acknowledged finally, opening his eyes and looking up at the darkening sky. The First Moon was rising, a silver curve in the sky. But Abel's eyes were riveted on the Second Moon – the one that appeared after the Armageddon.

The one they called the Vampire's Moon.

It was their space station, long ago. And Cain had sought the means to return to it when he had sent Dietrich to the Ghetto. It was the most visible reminder of his task, beckoning him onwards.

The two moons shone bright in the deep dark blue of the sky. So beautiful… like Esther's eyes.

Abel would come home – he had promised her, didn't he?

Abel tucked the memory of her close to his heart and took the first step on his Road, Ion following behind him.

**- end - **

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **

**Esther's age** – The official website apparently lists her age as 17 and I know the translators have tagged her as a 15 year old. For the sake of my sanity, the timeline of events in Trinity Blood "appears" like it took place over a couple of months but I think it's fairly safe to assume it actually took about 2 or 3 years. Esther had been a novice when she met Abel and you do NOT become a full-fledged nun (at least a nun in the way the Trinity Blood universe works) and an AX agent in a few months, okay? Plus, hey, she ended up marrying Abel – she WOULD be of legal age to do that, okay?

**The Pope** – I like that the anime showed that the Pope eventually began growing a backbone and it's evident this kid has _some_ brains, especially in the recent manga arc. I have plans for this kid – plans that aren't quite what's in store for him in canon. That's the fun of writing fan fiction. And I'm going to bring out the history nerd in me to play – this will be terribly entertaining… Fellow history nerds are welcome to bring in their input! Great Schism, anyone? (cue evil laugh)

**Canon **– the main canon source for Milk Tea is the anime, which was the first thing I saw and the one that's most familiar to me but I'm not averse to incorporating the manga and the novels where it suits. Again, I've said it before – I love tapdancing between canon and making my own fanon. I like the anime's more hopeful tone and I understand the slightly grimmer tone the manga is taking – they want to tell more stories, of course.

Kudos points to anyone who spots the Neil Gaiman (Sandman) and Tolkien references! (Okay, the Tolkien reference IS obvious….)

I'd like to welcome **smcandy** onboard as beta reader for the Milk Tea series. (waves to 'candy) Thanks for your interest and I look forward to working with you in the next set of stories!

The end? Are you serious? There's more stories coming up on the horizon!


End file.
